


Friends With Benefits (Keanu Reeves x Reader Series) Chapter 7

by ficsnroses



Series: Friends With Benefits (Keanu Reeves x Reader Series) [7]
Category: Actor RPF, American (US) Actor RPF, Canadian Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Angst, Consensual Sex, Crying, F/M, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Reader-Insert, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:01:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23588068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficsnroses/pseuds/ficsnroses
Summary: Chapter 7~ Old Habits Die Hard.What happens when two, lonely friends start seeing each other for sex? A tricky friends with benefits love story, when feelings get in the way.
Relationships: Keanu Reeves/Reader, Keanu Reeves/You
Series: Friends With Benefits (Keanu Reeves x Reader Series) [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1677169
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	Friends With Benefits (Keanu Reeves x Reader Series) Chapter 7

**Author's Note:**

> A/N : Welcome to chapter 7! This ones kinda heavy, but so important because we finally kinda get a look into both their minds. I hope you enjoy! 🖤 Also, you might want to punch them both in the face after reading this and that is totally valid.
> 
> Ch.6 Recap : Keanu and Y/N enjoy a wonderful night, waking up together nice and close, sharing snuggles. However, an argument ensues about their relationship, when Keanu proposes the idea of making a public appearance together. He leaves, leaving them both disappointed.

It’s true what they say about suffering.

_Merely the minds refusal to accept reality._

As he sits alone at the bar, Keanu wonders to himself, if that’s what it really was. This illusion, of emission, affection, companionship, if it was all just a well fledged, textbook recipe for

Suffering.

He sips his drink, an ambers dewy glow, the aged whiskey lets him dial down the volume of his thoughts. He swirls it in his glass, the clink of the cubes, dwelling on the flavour as it hits his tongue. He holds it still for a moment, letting the burn perverse. The deep, rummaging burn, a relief in its own right.

Maybe that’s all he deserved.

Burn.

The bar is filled with people, some young, some old. The diversity is nice, allows him to sink into the sea of faces, in a world where all he wanted, in this moment, was to erase away to his own anguish.

Just when he’d feel that maybe, just maybe with Y/N, things could be different, he’d be reminded the next second,

that they couldn’t.

Anytime he felt, for the slightest moment, that maybe, she could be something more, _they_ could be something more, she’d reject. The leaving all so sudden a week before, the disappearing for days on end right when they’d start to get close, _this morning_ ; the way she’d finally mustered it out, her feelings towards their label. It was clear, transparent as could be, Y/N _didn’t_ feel what he did. Whatever it is; these feelings that he felt.

He’d dreamed of a lot. He’d dreamed endless, of what his life would be. A sufficient car by 20, a worthwhile career by 25, a loving wife by 30, lovely children of his own by 35. A home. He’d dreamed of building a home.

He was grateful, there’s no denying it. He’d been fortunate enough to be gifted all the things he needed, a career he would thank the sky for each day, where he’d been able to showcase his passion for his craft. He’d earned all the material things. He had more than enough, more than he’d ever need to be happy.

But he didn’t have what he perhaps wanted more, than all the superficial. That void, the companionship he wanted, never filled. Vacant, hallow, a part of him he might never fill.

Perhaps that’s why he felt the way he did, with Y/N. She’d been filling the void. The need for companionship, trust, intimacy, the need for connection. She’d made him feel _not alone_ , in the endless crowds of people, everyone who seemed so happy, so content, as if mocking him each step.

She understood him, in a way no other had before. She got how it feels, to be alone. Perhaps, because she was too. She’d been a dire reflection of him, mirroring his tepid, half sheltered heart. The heart that longs, for so much more.

Was he…taking advantage of her? Is this, what they’d call toxicity? Two individuals, trapped in the same web of their pitiful selves, embodying the consecrate of unfulfilledness?

How good would it be, if she’d felt the same? If she’d wanted him in more, in the way he wanted her? As the time passed, the days turned to nights, the tick bestowing further, the time spending away, not making either of them younger, Keanu felt. He felt, that maybe, she was what he needed.

But not in the way he had her now, not in this way at all. He wanted _more_ of her; separate from her physical form, the connection, the trust, the intimacy, but wrapped in the blameless bow of something more,

love.

In sickness and health, till death do apart. That mundane, esteemed, distinguished form of what they’d been craving; intimacy.

But she didn’t want it. She wanted what they had already established. A dependent relationship of physical euphoria. A temporary relief from their busy lives. A sex based affiliation. He couldn’t blame her, it’s what he’d agreed to as well. And now, they were too far gone to perhaps ever make more of it.

This is what she wants. This is what makes her happy. So he’d keep it that way, because her contentment, is invaluable.

Even if it means, for him,

to suffer.

He’d been swept away in the cognitions of his mind, trapped wallowing in his own desolation, an endless stream of what could be, when the seat beside him occupies. A woman, younger than him by far, erogenous, the scent of malted liqueur stippling her skin. Her luscious locks rest on her exposed shoulders, her dress suggestively low cut, leaving little to the mind’s curiosity.

She leans in further, resting her arms on the bar counter, closer to Keanu than he would have liked. In a moment too soon, her sultry voice proceeds. 

_“What’s a hunk like you doing here alone?”_

He cautiously pulls away slight, enough to keep a feasible distance. Her gaze shrieked thirst, and she wanted it quenched, by him.

“Just having a drink before heading home, thank you.” Keanu nods, turning his head to face forward. This, was not what he wanted. Not right now.

She lowers her gaze to his dark swept jeans, biting her lip, stifling. With her touch piercing, she grazes her index finger to his thigh, suggestive. 

“And how is a mere drink, supposed to satisfy a man like you?” She peeves. “How about we get another order of drinks, huh?” She purses, her eyes practically stripping him whole. “Can I get two Manhattans on bar, please?” She gestures.

“I’m alright, thank you, miss.” Keanu replies, short, voice thick with disinterest. He turns away again, attempting to mind his own business, when she touches his forearm.

“Please, don’t call me ‘miss’.” Leaning in close, her breath traces his ear as she speaks. “ _Unless you want me to call you sir…_ ”

He pulls back, ready to leave the barstool, when his phone vibrates in his pocket. Sighing, he pulls it out to see her name flash the screen. Y/N.

“Excuse me.” Keanu tells the lady, taking the call, as the lady glances the name cross his screen. “ _Hello?_ ” He answers.

“ _Hey,_ ” Y/N’s silken voice chimes on the other end. There’s a drop of nervousness laced in her tone, although he can’t quite seem to pinpoint it.

“Hey.” He replies, trying his best not to come off too dejected.

“ _What’s up?_ ” She asks, the line flat quiet on the other side. She must be alone.

“Nothing, just having a drink.”

“ _Oh_ …” Y/N glums. He swore there was disappointment on her lips. “ _That’s cool. Whiskey neat?_ ” She smiles on the other end.

“On the rocks today.” He chuckles quiet. She remembered little things like that about him, his likes and dislikes, preferences. She’d come to know him quiet well over the years.

“ _Ahh, I see. It’s that kinda day_.” The line falls silent on the other end. Normally, Keanu would be delighted to speak with her, their conversations never dying down, never awkward. But after this mornings outburst, he didn’t understand why she’d dialed him so soon. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

He hears an audible sigh on the other end, before she starts. “ _Listen, Ke. I just wanted to check in and make sure we’re okay. I know I came off a bit harsh this morning, and I was a bit out of line, I admit. You know that I appreciate you, right?_ ”

“Yeah.” His deep voice barely speaks.

“ _You know you’re important to me. Really important. I’m sorry, I had no right to speak to you how I did. I understand you were just making a friendly gesture and I know our relationship is really unique, but I love that it works for us. And I just please, need to hear that you’re not upset or offended_.” She sighs. “ _I wanted to thank you for coming over last night, and staying with me. I really needed a friend yesterday. And I’m sorry that we left on a sour note this morning._ ” She quietly chuckles, probably rolling her eyes at herself on the other end. She did that a lot, it was one of her most lovable quirks. “ _I don’t know where the sudden mood change came from, I must be PMSing or something_.”

Keanu’s eyes glance down for a moment, happy to hear her voice, yet the feeling of melancholy never quite leaves his being. Y/N had apologized, but she hadn’t retracted any of her statement. It went to prove, that everything she said, is how she must have truly felt.

She didn’t want to be more. She didn’t want him the way he had begun to want her. And she perhaps, never will.

“It’s alright, Y/N. You didn’t even have to call.” Keanu replies, swirling the amber liquor in his glass.

“ _No, Keanu, I did. I was out of line. I didn’t want you to be upset with me_.”

He lets a small grin creep his lips. “You know I can’t be upset with you, Y/N.” Despite their reconciliation, his dusty, chocolate orbs never quite mirror the small smile his lips pursue.

She giggles, her voice honeyed, a breath of fresh air from the suffocation around him. “ _Well, I would have loved to spend all day with you today. I know it’s evening now, but if you’re free…_ ” She paused brief. “ _We could, get together? Have a meal? I could also use some **us** time later if you want…_”

His eyes glance down, an small exhale emitting his lips. Things were back to normal. 

But was that what he even wanted?

“That sounds great. I’m just heading home, meet me there?” He asks.

“ _Sure. I’ll see you soon, alright?_ ”

“Alright.” He speaks.

He decides. He’d rather have her, than not have her at all. Even if it was on her terms, the way she wanted, their relationship however she preferred. He needed her in his life in _some_ form.

 _Even if_ it was just dinner,

and a fuck.

Sighing, he palms his wallet in his jeans, ready to head out, as the woman grabs his arm again, before he can set the phone back into his pocket. 

“ _Listen_ ,”she drips. “You’re hot, I’m hot. The night is still young…” Fiddling his sleeve, she draws in closer. “Just a one-night thing, yeah?”

Keanu asserts his features, annoyance now apparent. Pushing her hand away, he speaks, firm. “Miss, please.” He straightens his shirt out, standing. “I have a girlfriend.” The lady frowns, rolling her eyes. “That Y/N you just spoke to?”

Standing, he throws his leather jacket on, reaching for his keys. “Yes. Not that it’s any of your business.” Throwing his due on the bar counter, as well as a generous tip, Keanu leaves, trying his best to focus on nothing more, than seeing his Y/N soon.

If, he could even call her that.

He didn’t even think he could dream of being with another woman, besides Y/N, now. He’d tasted the best, the purest form of nirvana.There was no going back now.

Little to his knowledge, a shocked Y/N listens on the other end of the call still, the phone held in tight grip to her ear, shaken at the words he’d just spoke. She wasn’t sure if she should be glad, that he’d forgot to hang up, or disappointed.

Had he just called her his girlfriend?

-

They’d arranged a date. She’d initiated it. She’d have to go through with it now, especially after what she’d done this morning. Even if her feelings had got the best of her, from what she’d heard.

Why had he called her his girlfriend? Was she just an excuse now? A weapon for him to flaunt?

She’d be lying if she hadn’t dreamt of it being that way. How they could be, how their relationship would be she were his girlfriend. She’d take him any day, but not this way. Not when he didn’t feel the same.

The rain falls, peppering his front yard. Each leaf glosses, she watches it globe while she waits for him at the door. The pools flood, leaving small puddles speckled along the yard. This darn rain.

_**Was it ever going to stop?** _

In a moment, Keanu glides the bulky doorframe open, closing the gate behind her with the switch of a button. “Hey,” He smiles, pulling her in for hug. He seemed happy to see her.

“Hi.” She quietly replies, wrapping her arms around his neck for a brief hug.

“Everything alright?” He asks, letting her go as they walk into the kitchen. He’s got the window cracked slightly ajar, the sound of the drumming rain apparent on their ears. In the center of the granite countertop, the slow glow of a candle waves. She focuses on it, collecting her thoughts.

“Yeah, I’m alright.”

Moving towards her, his deep voice empathizes. “Doesn’t seem like it.” As he sets himself down on the kitchen counter stool, he pats the vacant seat beside him. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” He soothes a rub to her arm.

“Yeah.” Taking place beside him, she rubs her temples, not sure how to start on the subject. Keanu looked happier than she’d seen him last. It had hurt her so, so bad to make him feel the way he did earlier that morning, the expression of hurt on his face, the sorrow, it killed her. She didn’t want it to return, as she sat beside him now.

But it had to be spoken about. She’d heard what she had on the phone, and she needed an explanation. For her own sanity.

And maybe, just maybe, this, could be the spark of a conversation. The spark of this relationship, becoming something new.

Cautiously, she lets out a heavy exhale, finally connecting their eyes. Encouragingly, Keanu’s hand finds hers as he holds it, assuring her that her thoughts and feelings, would always be safe with him.

“Keanu…I…”

His fingers lace with hers, assuring her with a soft hold. “Go on, sweetheart.”

Tucking a stray hair behind her ear, she speaks. “You left your phone on after our call. I overheard you talking to some, woman?”

His expression falls, stoic, eyes glancing down as his hand lets go of hers.

The assurance. Gone.

“And…you said I was your girlfriend. Me, Y/N. I just-”

Before she can finish, he cuts her off. “Y/N, that woman was trying to get me to take her home. I needed an escape, and you were the last girl on my mind, so I ended up using your name. It meant nothing more. I’m sorry you had to hear it.”

Y/N’s expressions go flat as well, and she can’t help the dissatisfaction coating her look. She thinks to herself, _of course,_ he didn’t actually feel the same as her. He was merely using her name, because it was the first to pop into his mind at the time.

She wasn’t special. She cursed herself for evening letting the thought sneak her mind.

“Oh…alright.” Y/N fixes her smile, trying her best to shine it his way. Only this time, it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, either. “Just making sure.” She quietly laughs, trying her best to keep her blues hidden.

Keanu pulls back cautiously, moving in his seat to give her space. “Right. I mean we could never… _you know_. We’re not in that place.” He guardedly speaks, running a hand through his hair. Keanu had said those words, only to keep things the way she wanted.

 _This is what she wants to hear. She doesn’t want more, Keanu._ He thinks to himself _. **Don’t** fuck it up again._

“Right. Not in that place.” Y/N nods, compliant. It’s a different story, that those words pierced through her skin, through the reveries of her heart. He’d never be in that place with her.

It’s time she accepted it.

“Dinner then?” Keanu asks. “I’m starving.”

“Sure.” She giggles, allowing the feelings flooding her mind to keep at bay, for now.

-

Dinner went by, although the tones different than they normally were. Conversation had been a little more awkward, a little more forced. It seemed as if, the events of today had trapped them in their own cageful minds, their true selves never being awarded the freedom they’d once relished in.

They both felt it; there was no denying it. Things were different now, after today. Both their feelings, hidden, confined away, imprisoned in the depths of their cognizance. They clawed to be free. Yet neither of them would dream of allowing it that way.

Not at the risk, of losing one another.

-

They say old habits die hard.

They say, you should respect yourself to walk away.

To end the suffer, if it’s not pushing you to what you need.

But old habits, _they do die hard._

Especially, when they’re laced with fear. Fear of losing what you want most.

Late into the night, after dinner and half executed attempts to carry conversation, here you were, again. In the quiet of his bedroom, you’d found yourself, legs wrapped around Keanu’s waist, grasping his shoulders as he slips a condom for protection on himself. In anticipation, you watch his hands move, eager to feel him close.

Something you hadn’t felt, all day. In more ways than just one.

Studying his features, you see him tense, he’s not his normal, lively self. Perhaps you’d been the same, the natural frown that you so badly wanted removed would not budge off your lips. He positions himself, nestled between your legs spread open for him in the darkness of his bedroom. The moonlight filtering in allows him to catch glimpse of your face. Your beautiful face, which he wished he could kiss so tenderly, so affectionately.

All of you, which he so desperately craved to be his. In a way greater than this. But that wasn’t possible, so for now, this would suffice.

This physical bond would suffice.

“Ready?” His deep voice rummages, hands planting firm to your hips. You nod your head, biting your lip. With one steady thrust, he sinks into you deep, pausing briefly to allow you to adjust. Within seconds, he begins rocking, rotating his hips skillfully, setting a rather brutal pace. A moan slips your lips into the dark of the bedroom, his grip on your waist tightening as he pounds into you.

To the sound of the bedframe creaking, the headboard hitting the wall behind, your thoughts race a mile a minute. Today is different. The sex, isn’t the same.

Normally, Keanu appreciates each inch of you, you communicate with each other, _compliment each other_ , yet today, proves a dire contrast. You lay beneath him, taking him as he drives into you. His pace is faster today, as if he’s trying to get it over with. His hands hold tight to your body, as one spare moves to cup your breast, his girthy cock reaching the deepest part of you, hitting your edge each time. His eyes focus on your bountiful breasts, bouncing perfectly to his rhythm, your nipples hardening as he fondles them, cupping as he pleases.

You let out an ear-splitting moan, after trying your best to keep them in tonight. The mood was different; you weren’t even sure if you should be moaning. But regardless, Keanu is fucking you so well, so good, you find it practically impossible to hold off, your face turning red as a result. Your fingernails dig into his back, watching his thrusts become frantic, you feel yourself weakening.

You watch his eyes clasp tight shut, small, ragged gasps leaving his lips in breathy exhales. He grunts, pushing into you. Feeling him twitch inside you, you know he’s close. You feel your skin becoming flushed, trickles of sweat peppering your forehead at the way he’s undoing you so well, his throbbing cock jammed deep inside your clenched cunt, whole, you can feel yourself dripping each time he pulls out, only to slam back in.

The sounds your making only turn you on more, your drenched wetness slick on his cock, the sounds your cunt makes send shivers down his spine, and he shudders knowing he wont last long. Wrapping your legs around his waist tighter, you try your best to pull him as close as possible, urging to feel the most friction to your sore, aching center.

With a particularly deep, harsh thrust, you come all over his cock, your orgasm taking you whole, sending piercing shocks through your mind. Your thoughts haze, the only feeling you feel is the oblivion he’s spilled you into. Within a few rockier thrusts, you feel Keanu spill his creamy load deep inside you, his cock still throbbing, his lips let out a loud moan, his palms digging into your hips. Your bodies jolt from the aftershocks, coming down from your highs.

He sighs, letting heavy breaths fall from his lips as he pulls out, leaving your cunt pulsating, he falls beside you on the bed, keeping a slight distance. You try not to let the tears fill your eyes, but they do.

They inevitably do.

Just this morning, you’d woken up in his arms, holding him close, as he held you. Now, into the late of the night, you’d just had sex with him, except it had been completely different.

This, wasn’t the type of sex you normally had. This was toxic sex. The type of sex you have, when you want to feel something so, so bad, when nothing else fills that void.

Pulling the duvet up higher to your chest, you attempt to cover yourself as you turn to your side. He lays still, staring up at the ceiling, chest rising and falling. It felt good in the moment, for him, it _always_ felt good when it was you. But now, as the euphoria of release has left, he feels guilt. Immense guilt, for ever allowing it to become this way.

How did they ever let it end up this way?

They wonder to themselves, in the quietude of their own minds. Not a word spoken the entire session, not during, not after.

Dead beat, dreadful, excruciating silence.

Into the dark of the night, he hears Y/N speak. “I should go.” Keanu sits up, looking her way as she pulls herself up, eyes scanning for her shirt.

“It’s late, Y/N.” He debates, reaching out to touch her. She doesn’t mean to, but she flinches slightly at his touch.

“Yeah, it’s alright. I’ll make it.” She says. He reaches over, down the bedside to grab her shirt, giving it to her as she wearily covers her chest from him.

 _They’d never been this distant before_.

“Y/N, please, I don’t like the idea of you leaving this late. At least let me drive you?”

As she slips on her bra and panties, back facing him still, she tries her best to keep her tears at bay. She couldn’t let him see the pain in her eyes. This was her fault, she thought. Her feelings. _This_ is what she had signed up for. She had no right to feel the way she did.

“No, it’s alright.” She speaks, as he follows her out the bedroom to the front door. Keanu had managed to only slip on a pair of boxers and a worn out t-shirt in the process, practically chasing after her. His chest falls heavy, knowing that there’s tension. Whatever caused the tension, he doesn’t know. All he knows, is the women he feels for, is leaving.

And she’s not feeling good. He can tell.

“Y/N, please. Did I do something?” He asks frowning, touching her shoulder. She finally turns, and he sees her eyes red.

“No, no. I just have an earlier morning tomorrow and need to get home.” Giving a small smile his way, she assures him, trying her best to pretend that all was alright. “I’ll talk to you later.”

As she attempts to walk out, closing the door behind her, Keanu follows her out the door, walking her to her car. It unsettles him deep to allow her to drive home, alone, in the night at 11:00pm. LA can be distressingly unsafe. He often found himself worrying when she’d drive around late at night, in her barely efficient car.

To the snarl of the car engine, she pulls her window down, assuring him one last time. “I’ll be alright. You get some rest.”

Keanu nods, the frown never leaving his lips. “Please, please call me when you’re home, or at least send a text. Please don’t forget.” He says quietly. With a nod, she pulls up her window, giving him a small wave as she pulls out of the driveway.

As he watches her reverse, pulling onto the empty LA street in front of his home, he kicks himself for not stopping her stronger. He should have forced her to stay. Kept her safe. Her eyes were red, she was upset, there was no denying it.

But why? What could he have possibly done, now? When all he’d been trying to do all night, was keep things the way she wanted? Strictly physical, no “extra” stuff in-between, as she’d referred to it?

With his gaze set on the scene around, he ponders to himself, stuck dead in his tracks, unable to move. In the lifeless of the night, he feels the rain peer in again, tiny drops of fresh water spattering, doting, speckling his exposed skin. It only gets harder, as the gloomy, shadowed gray clouds drift in further, the rummage of thunder in the sky louder by the second. Around him, he smells the scent of fresh rainfall, the dewy, water frosted grass glossing in the moonlight.

This darn rain.

_**Was it ever going to stop?** _


End file.
